


That sex thing

by kat_fanfic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Connect the Dots, Darach made them do it, First Time, Humor, M/M, Missing Scenes for all Seasons, Misunderstandings, Multiple Orgasms, PWP, Schmoop, Season 4 Spoilers, Stamina Problems, with a little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 21:18:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2323484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kat_fanfic/pseuds/kat_fanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apparently, his life was one big cosmic joke - a comedy show created by a bored deity even - because what else could explain the fact that when he was sixteen, Derek Hale walked into his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That sex thing

As it turned out, Stiles didn’t really like the whole sex thing. 

His natural clumsiness – which had gotten him into trouble many times before, especially if he happened to be standing right in front of a pretty girl, or boy, for that matter – was boosted by teenaged hormones, and not even his cuteish good looks could make up for his tendency to make an ass of himself on a regular basis.

The first time he popped a boner, he was in class. He looked down into his lap, looked up at Mrs. Martin who was just getting upright again, fallen piece of chalk in hand, and then glanced over at Lydia. 

“Awkward,” Scott commented from the next seat.

“Dude,” Stiles answered, heartfelt.

Life continued in that fashion. He pretty much knew from the get-go that he liked boys and girls alike, and as a rule, he found everyone, and everything, attractive. If someone bumped into him in the corridor – instant erection. If one of the guys gave him a noogie during Lacrosse practice – major awkward boner (mostly because jock strap).

He was turned on by Lydia snarling at him, found Danny’s aloofness immensely hot, and if it weren’t for the fact that Scott was like a brother to him? Yum.

“Stiles,” Scott hissed at him, that one afternoon they’d spent playing Madden and had ended with him spilling grape juice all over Scott’s new sweater. The same sweater that now lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. “Man, quit staring at me.”

“Um,” Stiles murmured, his eyes retracing the path a stray droplet had taken down his friend’s chest. Up the hill and in the dip, and down the hill and – ohhh, treasure trail….

“Stiles!” 

Maybe he should have known that there was more to it than just random kinks. Apparently, his life was one big cosmic joke – a comedy show created by a bored deity even – because what else could explain the fact that when he was sixteen, Derek Hale walked into his life. 

Derek, who incorporated everything Stiles had ever found to be a turn-on. He was eternally grumpy – and there was just something about the way his eyebrows would draw together that sent a tingle down Stiles’ back. 

He could be quiet and introspective – although not in a Danny way, but more of a tragic, ‘Dark Knight’ kind of way, which, yeah. Hot.

He had an athlete’s body, lean and well-defined, with the sort of muscles that spoke of real strength rather than empty gym bulk and Stiles was pretty sure that if he wanted to, Derek could break him in half. Easily. 

“Hey,” he said to Scott one night, after having helped Derek get rid of a creepy werewolf stalker who wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Did you know that being threatened with bodily harm is, like, totally hot?”

Scott rolled his eyes at him. “It’s called BDSM, Stiles. Look it up.”

Stiles did. But even though his undersexed body found great pleasure in the things the internet made easily accessible, nothing he found could ever compare to the reality of a menacing Derek Hale. The man was creepy and scary, and had a tendency to just appear in his room at random times – looming included. 

Basically, he was every teenage boy’s wet dream, if that particular teenage boy happened to be gay. Or bisexual. And aroused by either meanness, stubble, mortal danger, or leather jackets. 

“Okay, maybe it’s just me,” he admitted as he helped Ms. Blake clean up dead bird bits.

Thing was, not only was his hard-on trigger-happy at the best of times, he also had no stamina. Like, at all.

The first time he tried to have sex, that time with Heather in the wine cellar, he came as soon as their lips touched. It would have been really embarrassing, except he had the convenient excuse of having to get condoms. After his frantic search in the bathroom, he spent a few precious minutes cleaning himself up, all the while cursing his over-zealous prostate gland.

Of course, after that night, he cursed his rampant dick for other things than copious amounts of come.

“It wasn’t your fault that Heather went missing,” Lydia tried to console him the next day. 

Stiles continued to glare at his crotch. “No. It’s _his_.”

In retrospect, he mused later, he probably wouldn’t have tried to get in Derek’s pants if it hadn’t been for the very real threat of a virgin-killing Druid. Derek was not exactly known to take surprises very well, and ‘ta-dah, have my dick so I won’t die’ pretty much took the cake.

Later, Stiles would blame mortal fear for the fact that he took the first opportunity to throw himself at Derek, baby monkey style. 

Derek blamed the fact that he let it happen on the feelings he had for Stiles.

“Uh,” Stiles gasped, moments later, writhing between the proverbial rock and hard place – namely, Derek and the wall of his apartment. “Yeah, uh, uh… oooh!”

Stopping abruptly, Derek lifted his head from his neck and looked down. “Did you really just come in your pants? I didn’t even touch you.”

Stiles moaned, pressing his twitching cock against Derek’s leg. “’s good,” he slurred, pretending not to see Derek’s eye-roll. 

“This,” Derek exclaimed, gesturing between them and Stiles heart sank because sure, at some point Derek may have thought this was a good idea but he’d clearly come to his senses now – 

“This,” Derek repeated, gesturing again, “does not count as having sex.”

“Oh,” Stiles breathed, “So, I’m still a virgin?”

Derek gave him a look.

Stiles grinned. “Hey, I’m in danger here, wanna do something about it?”

Eyes widening, Derek glanced down again. “Huh,” he grunted, rocking into Stiles’ renewed hardness. “That was fast.”

It took Stiles two tries to last longer than thirty seconds with Derek’s hands on him. To be fair, Derek had great hands; strong yet smooth, – apparently, werewolves didn’t get callouses and wasn’t that a neat fun-fact? – with long, knowing fingers that touched him just so…

“Jesus,” Derek murmured, peering at his wet hand, “it just never stops.” Drawing his eyebrows together, he glanced at Stiles from under ridiculously long lashes and slowly brought his index finger up to his mouth. 

Stiles stared, transfixed, as Derek slowly slipped it past his full lips, tasting. Stiles whimpered, his spent cock twitching as he watched Derek suckle at his come-soaked finger like a popsicle. “Fuck,” he gasped, his whole body shaking as another wave of lust rushed through him at the sight. “Derek.”

“Tastes like blueberries.”

Stiles let out a groan, the renewed hardness almost painful. “Breakfast,” he managed to say. “Pancakes.” 

The moment Derek sank down to his knees, mouth hovering over his crotch, his breath so very warm on his sensitized skin, Stiles’ eyes rolled back into his head and with a low grunt he came all over the Alpha’s face. 

It was like something out of a porn sequence. Him with his jeans barely undone, his still half-hard dick hanging out of the flap, and Derek who had tilted his face up towards it to let the last drops pulse directly onto his tongue. 

Breathing heavily, Stiles let his hand hover over the man’s closed eyelids. With barely-there pressure, he brushed away the white globs clinging to thick brows and three-day old – if perfectly groomed – stubble. Beneath his fingertips, Derek held perfectly still, a light tremor the only evidence that he was as affected as Stiles was.

“If I was to suck you now,” Derek said, low-voiced, still without opening his eyes, “you think you’ll last longer?”

“Hell, no,” Stiles groaned, the very idea bringing him to the brink again. It was like a flood-gate had been opened the moment he’d decided to lose his virginity to Derek and now his dick just wouldn’t stop. “You gonna do it anyway?”

Derek flashed him a grin, murmured, “since you asked so nicely,” and went down on him. 

Stiles’ head snapped back, the wet hot suction sizzling along his cock and trickling down his spine. He moaned, a long, drawn-out sound that came from the very core of his being. Nothing had prepared him for _this_. “Oh, yeah,” he panted. “Fuck, Derek, yes! So good…”

Obviously, there was no answer, but with a low rumble of contentment, Derek took him whole, swallowing around him. 

Stiles yelped as he slid fully down Derek’s throat, thrown into orgasm hard and quick by the incredible tightness. The pulses felt like molten lava as he shot his meagre load, balls finally depleted. 

“Oh god,” he gasped as he shuddered through the aftershocks, “oh god, oh god, what, how…?” 

Pulling back, Derek sat on his haunches. He looked very smug. “I should have known you were a screamer.” 

Stiles blushed. “You try not to make a sound while your dick is gobbled up by a fucking hoover,” he grumped. His knees were trembling and he looked longingly over to the bed. “Think we can lay down for a bit? Or,” he amended with a slight grimace. “I could, you know, go, if you wanted me to.” 

“You’re an idiot,” Derek said, matter-of-fact, and got up in one smooth movement. His pants were visibly tented and Stiles felt his mouth water. 

Stepping up, he didn’t stop to think as he wrapped his arms around Derek’s waist and pulled him into an experimental kiss. Pushing their hips together, he murmured, “want me to do something about this?” against Derek’s swollen lips, grinning as he tasted himself on his tongue. 

Derek looked at him gravely. His eyes were half-lidded and dark with desire. “You don’t have to,” he hummed. “It’s not exactly a quid pro quo kind of thing.” 

“Ah, I see,” Stiles nodded, “but I’m pretty sure that reciprocation is part and parcel of a successful devirginizing process." 

“In that case…” Taking his hand, Derek placed it between them, on top of the warm bulge. It was with a strange sense of accomplishment that Stiles noted how Derek’s breath shuddered as he gently squeezed it, tracing the outline of Derek’s cock with a light touch designed to tease rather than stimulate. 

“Yeah,” Stiles murmured, feeling the erection twitch beneath his touch. “I can, yeah, I can do this.” 

Moaning lowly, Derek suddenly grabbed him, pulling him over to the bed. They tumbled onto it, Stiles landing on top of him, straddling Derek. Pressed together where it mattered most, they started moving at the same time. 

It didn’t take long for Derek to come, and Stiles felt a rush of elation when the Alpha couldn’t quite stifle a cry of fulfillment. 

“Wow,” Stiles murmured, flopping onto the mattress. 

“You know,” Derek rumbled as he pulled Stiles close as if it was the most natural thing in the world to cuddle after life-saving sex. Their bodies, Stiles noted asently, fit perfectly together. “I’m still not sure that it worked.” 

About to drop off now the he was sated, Stiles murmured, “hm?” 

“I’m just saying. There’s a lot more we could do to,” he hesitated, “devirginize you.” 

Adrenaline raced like fireworks through his blood and in an instant, Stiles was wide-awake. “Oh my god,” he exclaimed. “Are you saying that it wasn’t enough?” 

“Relax,” Derek said, manhandling Stiles on top of him. He had a peculiar expression on his face. “You’re safe now.” 

“How can you be sure, though?” Stiles asked, propping himself up on Derek’s shoulders. “It’s not like there is a brand on my forehead that reads ‘just got laid’! We didn’t even, you know,” he gestured vaguely to indicate that no intercourse had taken place. 

“Might as well be a sign there.” Stroking a hand down his back, Derek let it rest on his hip. 

Stiles frowned down at him. “How’d you figure that?” 

Derek gave him a crooked grin and tapped his nose. It was, Stiles had to admit, a little bit adorable. 

Stiles let that thought settle. “So let me get this straight,” he said, after a pregnant pause where he tried to come to terms with the fact that he’d just called Derek adorable, if only in his head. “You can smell virgins? For real?” 

“Why does that surprise you? You know we can smell sickness in a person, and even detect emotions in a scent.” 

“Still,” Stiles complained. “That’s just, so weird. Wait, does that mean the guys will be able to smell it on me?” ‘Smell you’, is what he didn’t ask, though it was heavily implied. “What am I supposed to tell them when they ask? Oh man, I’ll never live it down that I came to _you_ with this.” 

For a few heartbeats, Derek just looked at him. “I don’t care,” he finally said, slowly. In another smooth, ninja-like move, he dumped Stiles on the bed and got up. He slipped his shirt off with a grimace of distaste. “Tell them what you want, Stiles. I’m taking a shower.” 

“Sure,” Stiles murmured, distracted by the vast expanse of skin Derek had so generously exposed for him. “I guess I’ll think of something. Hey, uh, you want to maybe do this again sometime?” 

Derek gave him a funny look. “This?” 

“Yeah,” Stiles gestured between them. “Nookie, hide the sausage, whatever you want to call it. After all, you said that there’s and I quote ‘a lot more we could do’.” 

“I changed my mind.” Derek was already halfway up the stairs before the words reached Stiles’ brain. “Let yourself out, make sure to pull the door in the lock.” 

Feeling bereft and a little bit like he was about to do the walk of shame, Stiles stared after him. “Yeah,” he murmured. Stuffing himself back into his pants was humiliating, especially since it didn’t do much to hide what he’d been up to. 

Wondering when the approachable and even gentle Derek from minutes ago had turned into the taciturn SOB nobody even liked anyway, Stiles left without a backward glance. 

“I think sex is way overrated,” he informed Scott and Isaac as they sat in Scott’s room sharing a bottle of cheap scotch. 

Isaac looked at Scott. 

Scott blushed. 

Stiles looked back and forth between them, sure that he was missing something. 

Unsurprisingly, over the next few weeks, Stiles and Derek’s relationship took a turn for the worse. They didn’t see each other much and when they did, more often than not their attempts at conversation dissolved into petty fights and arguments. 

The whole Nogitsune possession time was a blur and then he had Malia to take care of. He really liked her a lot, even if there were times when she was so unmistakably a Hale that Stiles felt a little sick to his stomach. Making love to Malia was nice, but he couldn’t help the feeling that something essential was missing every time they did it. 

And then came the long nights he lay awake, staring at the walls of his bedroom, remembering. Malia didn’t talk to him, wouldn’t even look at him anymore, because he had lied to her about Peter. 

And it hurt to know that he’d lost her, but what hurt even more was the realization that he had seen the look on her face before, on someone he never expected he had the ability to hurt. 

Fearing for one’s life on a regular basis had one advantage, he thought the moment he laid eyes on a mortally wounded Derek, lying in the Mexican dirt, unable to heal. 

“It helps getting priorities straight,” he murmured days later, after the dust of that damned church had settled and he and Malia were firmly back in friend territory. Braeden had left without Derek, and although he didn’t want to get his hopes up, to Stiles, it felt like a sign. 

“Oh yeah?” Derek was clearly unimpressed. Turning into a full wolf had given him his health and strength back, but there were things that couldn’t be healed by evolving. 

“Yeah,” Stiles whispered, and this time when their lips met, he poured everything into the kiss. Every bit of frustration, anxiety, and terror that had so defined the last year. He shared the wondrous feeling of having forged life-long friendships, as well as the elation of knowing that when all was said and done, there was one person he could always turn to. 

“And who’s that?” Derek mumbled, the corner of his mouth curling into a crooked smile. 

Stiles pulled back. “I think,” he mused, “that it’s always been you, Derek.” 

This time, they didn’t come up for air for a long time. 

And as it turned out, Stiles did like the whole sex thing after all. He did with Derek. 


End file.
